


Remembered

by MinaZ



Category: London Falling - Paul Cornell, Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Background story, Book 4: Broken Homes, Crossover, Evil Thomas Nightingale, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaZ/pseuds/MinaZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, how likely is that this horse is really for free?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler for all Rivers of London books including Broken Homes. Slight spoiler about the concept of the magic in London Falling (which is explained in the end in case you have not read the book and/or don't plan to read it.)
> 
> And again many thanks to old chatterhand for quick beta-reading.

Thomas Nightingale was waiting in the mundane library for the sound of footsteps upstairs to die down. He knew that Molly was in the kitchen, feeding Toby, and Peter had had a tiring day and would soon quieten. Still, it was after three o'clock before the old wizard finally moved. He went down the stairs, past Sir Isaac Newton guarding the entrance, further down past the firing range and armoury into an unlit corridor. He knew this place good enough to not even bother with a werelight.  
The heavy doors opened before him, and he entered the mausoleum, finally casting a light as the doors closed again behind him.  
A dozen heavy stone altars lined the walls. The first on the right, and four at the far side of the room were unoccupied. The other seven showed shapes covered with white sheets. The empty one in the front had a sheet neatly folded at one end, well away from the bloodstain on its centre.  
Nightingale walked along the lines, deep in thought. Good memories were hidden behind each sheet, each set, left and right together, a decade of his second life. As he reached the second to last pair of stone blocks, he paused, putting his hands lightly on the rogue, empty surfaces. The one on the right was already spoken for, Thomas was sure of that. The one on the left would remain to be seen. He had been almost sure to have found his newest pair. How was he still so impatient after all this time?  
He kept still for a moment, before returning to the entry. The empty block seemed to mock him. After the war, as he had grown older, he had realised that he would need a successor. And his apprentice was such a joy to have around. Intelligent, determined and dutiful. After ten years of nurturing the young wizard and finally having some camaraderie again, the bitter disappointment had been almost more than he could take. Together with the realisation that, if the Queen's Peace was to be kept, he was the one who would need to do so. His body, while still fit for his age even back then, was not up to this task any longer. But Thomas had found the solution. Oh, he had not been experienced enough back than. The spell was spoken, and spoken well, but still his first apprentice had been able to leave. Leave, only to realise that the world did not remember him. Did not remember at all that Thomas Nightingale had ever had an apprentice. To realise that even when standing right in front of him, no one would remember his dear apprentice's face.  
The second disappointment was easier to take, the young man was already half trained when he came to the Folly, and though Nightingale enjoyed his enthusiasm, he knew what to expect in the end. And learned his lesson that putting his hope on just one single soul was not going to be enough. Years passed, sometimes alone, but usually with a student by his side, one that now was always joined by another soon after.  
Still, the first altar needed to be filled before the mausoleum was full. But Thomas was confident. He had good, strong help. Dedicated and loyal. And already well remembered. The fire, the kidnapped ambulance, being buried alive, being almost blown up. Certainly an enterprising young lad. Even if they did not manage to return his wayward pupil in this decade, Nightingale was sure he would get enough strength out of making London forget this promising magician.  
Thomas looked once more over the line of his former apprentices. Each and every one had finished their studies and he was proud of them. It was a pity that none of them would ever be remembered. But that was his sacrifice.  
He left then, his werelight extinguishing, hiding the gentle rise and fall beneath each pristine white cloth.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea behind the magic in London Falling is that one gains power either by being "remembered" by the city or by bringing sacrifices, though combining both and using the memorability of someone else as a sacrifice is me bending the concept somewhat (ok, a lot). I wanted to incorporated this idea into the Rivers of London verse, and also evil Nightingale without him being Faceless.


End file.
